


Carly to Karlie

by Ida_Phillips



Category: Karlie Kloss - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: AU, F/F, kaylor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ida_Phillips/pseuds/Ida_Phillips
Summary: An AU where citizens are cast to play celebrities, but it's all really hush hush. Also in which rumors of homophobia mean Taylor's agent has to cast her a VS model girlfriend.





	1. Majority Stock in Karlie Kloss(tm) Changes Hands

Carly Klaus stepped into a small, white room and let the door close behind her. She observed a woman on a stool facing an adjacent, empty stool, a camera, and a stone-faced man with a pen and a notepad. Carly was there because she’d been scouted for some kind of modeling/acting job, and god knew she needed the money. In all honesty she was about a car-breakdown away from becoming a sex worker.  
The instructions she’d been given for “audition preparation” were undeniably fishy. They said she was to “invent an altered, stylized version of self” and be prepared to remain in character for the duration of the audition. Carly Klaus, as Karlie Kloss, took a deep breath and smiled at the other two in the room.  
“Karlie, thank you for meeting me here. Can I ask you a few questions about yourself?” It was the woman on the stool who spoke. She had papers in her hand and gestured at the empty stool with them. Carly sat down and reminded Karlie not to fidget. Karlie was beauty, grace, and confidence, and Carly was a good liar.  
“Yeah of course. What do you need to know?”  
The woman was petite and wore red lipstick and a blonde wig.  
“What are some things you’re interested in?”  
Karlie smiled wide and shrugged.  
“Lots of things,” she said, a chemical warmth in her voice. “I love cooking. I cook all the time, especially breakfast. A hearty breakfast is so important if you want to have energy throughout your day. I also work out a lot. I just love to feel healthy, look good, and live a life with meaning, you know?”  
The woman in the wig nodded.  
“And how do you react to personal criticism, specifically unwarranted, mean-spirited criticism?”  
Karlie pursed her lips and looked up and to the left while she thought. It was a cute face; Carly’d practiced it in the mirror way back when she thought she wanted to be a model.  
“Well, you know, I’m just so comfortable with myself and where I’m at right now that all that stuff just sort of rolls off my back. I think people who say nasty things probably need more cookies in their life,” she ended her assertion with a sparkling laugh. Carly was pleased to see the man with a notepad paying more attention to Karlie than when she walked in.  
“Move on to roleplaying,” the man said, which made Carly nervous, especially with the lady interviewer getting up and approaching her. The sex worker thought from earlier returned to her mind.  
“Ok, hang on, money up front for any kind of sex stuff,” Carly grunted, motioning for the woman in a wig to take a step back. The two in the room laughed, and the man wrote something on his pad.  
“No sex, but would you say you’re often willing to part with your morals in exchange for money?” the woman asked.  
Carly reminded herself that she was Karlie at the moment and shook her head.  
“No I wouldn’t say that, I’m very body and sex positive so sex work isn’t really against my morals-”  
“Ok what about the real you?” the wigged woman interrupted, pausing to look at her notes, “Carly Klaus?”  
Carly laughed and shrugged.  
“I mean, depends on how much money, but basically yeah.”  
The woman smiled.  
“Do you have a lot of friends and family?”  
“No,” Carly said, “I recently moved here from out of state, and I’m not very close to my family.”  
“That’s good. Alright now pretend we’re old friends, Karlie with a ‘K’ and I, and we’re seeing each other again after a long time.”  
So they did some roleplaying stuff and Carly felt pretty good about her performance. The two interviewers(?) seemed to warm up to her after she’d denounced morality in favor of cash. They thanked her and sent her on her way. The whole ordeal took about an hour, and at the end Carly was still not clear about what job exactly she was interviewing for, but she felt like she might’ve had a pretty good chance at getting it.

It was a week later that Carly got a call from an unknown number. Upon answering, she was informed that the corporation who’d interviewed her wanted to bring Karlie in to review a potential, year-long work contract. They were cagey when it came to the details, but they assured her the pay was “substantial” and the contract “very reasonable.” Carly ignored a lot of internal red flags and agreed to a meeting at some ridiculous-sounding NYC penthouse address.  
She wore chic clothes that made her look like a model and practiced her pretty girl voice on the way there in the car they sent to pick her up. When she arrived, she was met at the door by a hunky, male maid.  
“Karlie Kloss?” he inquired pleasantly. Karlie smiled and nodded.  
“I’m here for the contract signing-”  
“Honey I know why you’re here,” the man interrupted in an eye-roll, stereotypical ‘gay’ voice. “I’m Brad, nice to meet you. You are gorgeous. Follow me.”  
He didn’t leave any room for a response in the time before he whirled around and sashayed into the penthouse flat. Karlie followed, trying to ignore the panic chemicals leaking into her bloodstream from the weirdness of it all. Eventually they came to a red-leather, mahogany study. Brad dusted some stuff or whatever. Karlie’s breath caught at the sight of Taylor Swift sitting, smiling, to the side of her agent’s desk. Her agent, the man in the room for Karlie’s interview, was not smiling.  
“Karlie Kloss. We have your contract written up, and you may read through it here. You need to decide whether to sign or not before you leave the property and within the next 24 hours,” he said in a voice that wasn’t accepting questions. Karlie smiled and reached out when she was handed the textbook-thick document.  
“Wow, that’s a lot. What exactly is this job?”  
Taylor Swift giggled. Karlie was cool about it, but Carly was freaking the fuck out because Taylor was literally her idol and dream girl, and she was sitting right fucking there, giggling irl.  
“So, this might sound a little weird, but we want to pay you to date me, Karlie.”  
Ok now Karlie started to freak out a little bit.  
“Why?” she managed. Taylor had such a girlish charm it was hard to pay attention to what she was saying and how whacky-romcom it was.  
“Well there’s been some unfortunate rumors lately that I’m a homophobe, you know because of the country music way back whenever, and that little shout out to the gays in Welcome to New York didn’t have as much of an effect as we’d hoped, so my agents are thinking now might be a good time for me to come out as bisexual.”  
“Are you bisexual?” Carly asked, breaking character a little bit. Taylor shrugged.  
“Does it matter? Sexuality and gender are fluid, even if I’m not bi right now I could be tomorrow. The important thing is that my fans know I’m not a homophobe.”  
“Ok. So what do I do?”  
Taylor’s agent answered first.  
“It’s outlined in the contract.”  
Taylor clarified in a friendlier tone.  
“Yeah basically we act really cutesy in public, go on some dates, post some stuff on Facebook, insta, and twitter, and hang out a lot. It’s not a big deal. I’ll be dating Karlie with a K, so we’ll give her a past and a job and whatever, just help you out with some character development. It’s just a year-long acting job really.”  
Carly was liking the sound of this. Getting paid to date a cute, nice girl with a shit load of money, why even read the contract, except that Taylor’s agent was really scary and he said she had to read the contract in it’s entirety if she wanted the job.

Taylor was really hospitable while Karlie was reading. There was a lot to get through, and since she couldn’t leave the penthouse until she’d read everything and made her decision, she was stuck there overnight. Taylor made all kinds of snacks, and Brad got Karlie anything she wanted. Taylor’s sparkly, pink attitude and her sparkly, pink alcohol definitely made the weird parts of the contract easier to look over. The agent was really thorough. They’d patented Karlie Kloss(tm) and held a 51% stake, while Carly held the other 49%. There was a section about how Taylor’s media reps were allowed to publicize Karlie Kloss’s(tm) death, in the unfortunate event that she died before her year-long contract was up. There were also pretty vague consequences for violating the contract, like Taylor’s legal team would be the only deciding party where damages were concerned, and the copyright for Karlie Kloss(tm) would be forfeit to the company holding Taylor’s contract at the time of Carly’s severance. There was a required number of “high-profile” outings per week that increased towards the ninth month of the contract and decreased for the last three months. The nature of the break-up was to be decided by Taylor’s media reps during the last three months of the contract based on Karlie Kloss’s(tm) ratings with focus groups. The contract acknowledged the possibility that it may be renewed at the end of the twelve months, depending on Karlie Kloss’s(tm) ratings, or a new contract may be written up in the event that the nature of Taylor and Karlie Kloss’s(tm) relationship was to be changed, and the contract holders wanted to maintain their 51% stake in Karlie Kloss(tm).  
It was two in the morning of the next day when Karlie finally finished reading. She was really tired, a little buzzed, and in a really good mood from all of Taylor’s attention. Brad had gone out and come back with party poppers to set off once she’d signed.  
“Come on, Karlie, don’t you want to be someone? Sign the contract. This is a chance like no one else gets. I can tell we’ll have so much fun together,” Taylor pleaded, all smiles and ethanol breath. Karlie laughed and shrugged as she signed away her name and 51% of her right to life.  
The ink hadn’t dried before Taylor’s agent materialized and snatched the contract, Disney’s-Ursula-style.  
“It’s official, welcome to the team, Karlie Kloss,” he said, flipping through the document, and as if that was a sleeper-agent trigger phrase, the room went cold. Taylor’s grin fell off, and Brad’s posture collapsed. Apprehension prickled up Karlie’s spine.  
“What’s wrong?” she murmured after a few quiet seconds. Taylor raised an eyebrow and blew a humorless laugh out of her nose.  
“You’re a fucking idiot.”  
Karlie was startled by the sudden harshness.  
“What?”  
“You just signed away your majority-stock-holder status in your own life.”  
“No-”  
“You’re Karlie with a K now, and you don’t even own your own name,” Taylor continued ominously, rising from her place across from Karlie. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be rough for you.” She turned and stalked off to her quarters. Karlie looked over at Brad, who’d been pretty nice to her, for some reassurance. He popped a party popper in her face and laughed.  
“She’s a real bitch, yeah?” he grunted in a more natural sounding, low pitched tenor. “Hey, let me buy you a drink sometime,” the man continued. Karlie looked at him, disbelief on her face.  
“No thank you,” she said, too bewildered to be much ruder than that. Brad narrowed his eyes and shrugged.  
“Yeah should’ve figured you’d be a bitch too. What kind of slut agrees to date a celebrity for money?” It was a rhetorical question and Brad had stalked off before Karlie could say anything to him. She shook her head, alone in Taylor Swift’s penthouse living room, in an attempt to clear it.  
“What the fuck is going on?” she whispered into the dark.


	2. Beauty, Grace, and Confidence

Karlie woke up the next morning, suddenly alone in her body. Carly, overnight, had become a phantom concept. Carly was a tall girl some people two states over had inaccurate memories of. She had a family she hadn’t spoken to in more than three years and a handprint in the sidewalk of a small town with her initials and the date scrawled next to it in hurried cursive, but that was all the record of her that remained.  
Karlie had a bad taste in her mouth. It was six in the morning when Brad shook her awake, out of character.  
“Hey wake the fuck up; you’re on celebrity time now, bitch,” he shouted. Karlie swatted him away and shot a fierce glare out of her sleep-puffy eyes.  
“Back off,” she snapped, and he seemed to get the picture. The man laughed gruffly and wandered away. Karlie wondered at how they managed to cast such an insufferable fuckboy to play Taylor Swift’s gay best friend/live in maid.  
Taylor Swift, as if thinking her name had summoned her like the devil, appeared then. She was an icy foil of the Taylor Swift she’d pretended to be the night previous. The difference was stark and continued to be as jarring as it had been.  
“Good morning,” Karlie said, eying Swift. Taylor grunted.  
“It’s time for your talk about image control, and then a character development meeting with my media reps. You can’t wear that,” she said, and her words were stiletto sharp. Karlie heaved a sigh and stood up. There was one satisfying second of eye contact where Taylor had to crane her head back to adjust for Karlie’s four-inch height difference, and Taylor was visibly annoyed by this.  
“Ok well what do I wear then?”  
Swift did a gesture with her arm to indicate that Karlie should follow her.  
“I’ve got some stuff, but you’ll look like a skank in all of it because you’re so tall.”  
Karlie grumbled a reluctant “thank you” and followed begrudgingly after her ex-dreamgirl.

Karlie’d sat through the image control talk without much incident. They lectured her about things like the dangers of leaving a venue without re-applying makeup beforehand, paparazzi-saturated locations, ways to make a posed picture look candid, and what to post and what not to post on social media, etc. At the end they recorded her social media account log ins with the intent to erase Carly’s internet presence. They even got her myspace info, and then it was off to the character development meeting, which was to be done with Swift, in character.  
“I don’t know if you remember because you were so wasted last night, but there’s a clause about a week-long trial period for Kloss in your contract. This meeting is like a second interview; if you don’t stay in character, it’s over. You act like Karlie with a K, but they know we aren’t really dating,” Taylor was saying, unfeeling. Karlie nodded and straightened out her posture as they walked. She recited the remaining “pros” of the situation to herself as a way to stay bubbly, positive, and likable. Taylor Swift may have turned out to be some kind of psychotic ruse, but she was still hot, and she was still famous. The contract was definitely fishy, but Karlie was getting paid a lot, and it was only a year long. What could they do in a year? Karlie was in the middle of getting hyped about all the high-profile partying she’d be doing when Taylor pushed open the glass doors to a conference room and clicked back into her sugary facade.  
“Hello everyone, here she is, the girl we’ve all been waiting for,” Swift announced cheerily, her walk charmingly off kilter all of a sudden, “Karlie Kloss! Isn’t she gorgeous?”  
The men and women in the conference room cheered and clapped. They all wanted to shake Karlie’s hand, Karlie who blushed at the attention and greeted everyone in turn. Taylor eventually put her hand at the small of Karlie’s back to get her attention. It was a weird, intimate moment of contact from someone who’d called her both a fucking idiot and a skank in the past six hours.  
“Let’s sit,” Taylor whispered, a cute shyness on her lying face. Karlie smiled wide even though she was honestly really annoyed at the pleasant tingling happening in her lower abdomen in response to Taylor’s touch. They sat, followed by everyone else, and a woman who must have been the head rep approached a screen with a powerpoint presentation.  
“Nice to meet you Karlie. My name is Deborah and I think I speak for all of us when I say we really look forward to working with you.”  
There was murmurings of agreement. Karlie smiled.  
“Now,” Deborah continued, “we’re very excited about this character. Karlie’s dimensions make her a perfect fit for a Victoria’s Secret angel persona we’ve been trying to cast for a while now. We’ve written her a model-prodigy childhood, with her career beginning at age 15. She’s well traveled, fun-loving, and a healthy-eating advocate. Karlie’s details are outlined in the binder in front of you all. She’s busy, but of course she always has time for her best friend, cooking buddy, and eventually girlfriend, Taylor Swift.”  
Karlie opened the binder and fought a semi-horrified face that threatened to surface at the serial-killer thoroughness and accuracy of everything. They had baby pictures, school pictures, the date she’d gotten her first period, two extensive family trees (one fake and the other real), expertly photoshopped modeling headshots, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, the date and way she’d lost her virginity, and all kinds of other across-the-line factoids. Karlie played her nervous laugh off like it was an amused laugh.  
“Wow, you guys really know your stuff,” she said. The media reps all laughed.  
“We’re the best in the business, Karlie,” Deborah said, glowing with pride. Karlie didn’t know who else was in this business exactly, but she could only imagine the NSA was among Taylor Swift’s media rep department’s competition.  
“They really are, Karlie; these men and women made me what I am today,” Taylor said. She and the media reps shared a bunch of nauseating “oh you” looks. Karlie reached over to put one arm around Taylor. It looked like an expression of friendship and compatibility, but it was really more of a dominance move.  
“Well I’m in good hands then,” she said. Taylor leaned into the embrace, just a little, which was satisfying on a carnal level, but annoying outside of Karlie’s lizard brain.

Karlie and Taylor left the conference room hand in hand, chatting like old friends, not two strangers who really hated each other. Once they rounded a corner, however, Taylor ripped her arm back and shoved Karlie backwards by her shoulder.  
“Hey!” Karlie hissed “what the fuck?”  
“I really fucking hate you, Karlie,” Taylor snarled, her little fists balled up at her sides. Karlie rolled her eyes.  
“Why though?” she grunted, “I haven’t done shit to you.”  
“You’re stiff and awkward. You keep throwing a wrench in my persona. I’ve gone through way too much to get where I am to have some valley-girl dumbass show up and fucking ruin it. Just wait until TMZ says one nasty thing about you; you’ll crack for sure, and I’m going to do the suicide PSAs on the news with fake tears in my eyes, but then I’m going to go home and drink with Brad, and we’re going to laugh about how weak you are.”  
Karlie was basically winded because this was some next level crazy. Taylor’s glare was sharp like broken glass, and after a couple seconds of holding it without flinching, Karlie determined that she wasn’t joking. Carly with a C might have grumbled something passive aggressive and walked away, had she been in the same situation, but that Carly was dead and Karlie with a K was beauty, grace, and confidence.  
“Ok, first of all,” Karlie began, taking a step forward, “you’re insane. Second, you need to back off, shorty, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m taller than you, skinner than you, and I’m going to fake-date the shit out of you. My ratings with focus groups are going to be so high, your reps back there are gonna ask me to marry you.”  
Taylor looked like she was on the verge of exploding into a werewolf or the hulk. Her eyes were dark with unimaginable rage, and Karlie struggled to hold her ground.  
“You don’t know this game like I do.”  
With that, Taylor shouldered past Karlie and continued down the hallway, adjusting her walk upon being seen by some of the trailing media reps. Karlie was still catching her breath while she listened to Swift’s bubbly greeting.


	3. Taylor #3 of ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karlie gets more familiar with the real Taylor

After some etiquette classes and instructive meetings about interviewing well and what attitudes are popular with female youth (Karlie’s target audience), it was late. Taylor’s manager mandated that Karlie sleep at Taylor’s a second night. He assured the both of them that she would be able to go home the next day after some roleplaying practice.  
Karlie sat uncomfortably in the living room she’d signed her contract in. She wasn’t tired, but she wished she was. Brad was being gross, and Taylor was being really talkative; in other words they were both drunk.  
“So, Karlie, what did you fuck up to get yourself in this situation?” Taylor asked, pointedly. She hadn’t had much to drink, but judging by how direct and open she was being, the international popstar had a pretty low alcohol tolerance. Karlie shrugged.  
“I was never an academic type. I moved out here to become a model; that didn’t really pan out.”  
Taylor laughed.  
“What kind of narcissist moves to New York City to be a model? I mean, I guess it fake worked out, but most people want to be artists.”  
Karlie took several big swallows of Taylor’s pink wine straight from the bottle. She was too sober to be having this conversation. Brad piped up.  
“You’re hot Karlie, but you’re not really ‘model-hot;’ you look more like a stripper to me.” Brad leered, and Karlie rolled her eyes.  
“Brad when’s the last time you met a stripper who was six two?”  
Taylor snorted.  
“You’re definitely the feistiest one they’ve had me date, Karlie,” she said in a voice that sounded approving. Karlie shrugged.  
“Yeah well you guys are terrible, brings out the feistiness.”  
Taylor arched a brow and pouted her lips.  
“What, you don’t like us?”  
“You’re both really mean to me-” Karlie tried to explain, but she was cut off by the feeling of Taylor Swift tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
“Hey,” Taylor cooed. When Karlie looked over at her, the international popstar’s eyes glinted with some kind of horrible evil, or just general bitchiness. It was hard to know what you were going to get when it came to Celebrity Taylor Swift. Brad lost interest in the situation and wandered off.  
“What?” Karlie grunted, thinking she was not coordinated enough at the moment to fight off her impending murder.  
“I’m only mean to you because you’re ruining my life, and I hate you,” Taylor said in a gentle voice.  
“I-”  
“And Brad’s only mean to you because he’s jealous.”  
Karlie hesitated.  
“Wait, jealous of me? Why?”  
“Because I talk about you so much-” Taylor short circuited or something at that admission and blinked a couple times to clear her head. Karlie wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise. She watched Taylor’s alcohol-inhibited brain scrambling for a way to backpedal, and it was unnervingly human, like an AI with heartache.  
“Right, about how annoying I am; I get it,” Karlie finally offered, allowing poor Taylor to keep her pride. Swift pursed her lips and nodded.  
“Yeah, he wants to be the only exhausting narcissist in my life.”  
Karlie shot a look at her that said something like “don’t push it; I’ve seen you bleed; I know you’re human.” Taylor’s retaliatory look said “fuck you.” Her mouth said that as well. Karlie rolled her eyes.  
“I’m going to bed.”

Roleplaying was weird. They were in a room with the woman from Karlie’s audition. She wasn’t wearing a wig anymore, and she was a lot meaner.  
“You’re sitting in a coffee shop. Swift is going through a breakup, and Kloss is comforting her.”  
It always startled Karlie, how good Taylor was at pretending she wasn’t a vengeance demon. The international superstar pouted and teared up like a talented actress or some kind of criminal schizophrenic.  
“I guess we just grew apart, Karlie. You should’ve seen his face, though; he was so hurt and confused. I can’t believe I did this to him,” Taylor whimpered. Karlie, not to be out-done, did a sad smile and reached out to hold Taylor’s hand.  
“Hey,” she whispered and tilted her head to re-establish eye contact. “You need to do what’s best for you. He’ll be ok; maybe this will even be a time for him to grow and learn.”  
Taylor sighed.  
“I hope so,” she didn’t sound convinced.  
“Tay, you’re doing the right thing. It would’ve only gotten harder the longer you waited-”  
“Stop,” the woman commanded. Taylor and Karlie froze and looked at her. “This is sloppy. Karlie, it’s Taylor. No nicknames have been authorized for Swift by her media reps.”  
Slyness winked in Taylor’s eyes, then extinguished when her name was called.  
“What?” Swift barked back. The woman tapped her clipboard with a pen.  
“The prompt says the boy broke up with you; you know that.”  
Taylor fumed.  
“I don’t get broken up with-”  
“You do what you’re told, Swift. We’re humanizing you.”  
Celebrity Taylor Swift, who took being called human as an insult, glared first at the woman and then glared even harder at Karlie. Karlie rolled her eyes because Taylor used that icy glare so much it was becoming passé.

“I’m the famous one. My name should come first,” Taylor argued, drawing a groan from Karlie and her manager.  
“Tarlie? That’s ridiculous-” Karlie tried to reason.  
“Taylie. I’m a salaried employee; you’re a fucking temp, and this is my call-”  
Taylor’s manager made a frustrated, guttural noise and brought his fists down on his desk with startling force. Both tall, thin, blonde Eurocentric beauties shut up and stood at attention.  
“This isn’t an issue of rank, Swift; it’s a celebrity couple name. The media reps say Kaylor tested best with focus groups. That’s the one we’re using.” The manager’s face was swollen with high blood pressure and cholesterol. His lips were glossy, and his eyes were brimmed with yellow.  
Taylor’s eyes got dark and she took a step towards Karlie, coiling. Karlie braced herself for a physical attack even though she knew a cutting, emotional one was more likely.  
“Taylor, touch Karlie Kloss, and you’re sold.”  
Taylor was frozen for a second or two before she spit on Karlie’s shoes and stormed off. Karlie released a breath she’d been holding.

Karlie sat at home in her shitty apartment, reading through her background info. It was weird to be studying again. Carly with a C had never been much of a book person, or even a school person. In reality she would’ve dropped out of high school if it weren’t for her principal with boundary issues, and it helped that she didn’t not return his borderline-illegal flirting. The studying was even weirder because she was literally studying herself - an altered, stylized version anyway.  
As she studied, Taylor’s media department and all her agents were building Karlie. They were working with the IT teams at Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram to fudge the dates of her postings and pictures of her, photoshopped to look younger. They were buying her a West Village apartment. They were writing alibis, lining up interviews, booking flights, securing fashion week participation, and anything else they could think of to make Karlie Kloss(tm) seem like a bona fide identity. They’d given Karlie a date, about two months out in February, when they’d be done. Until then, There was a whole host of things she wasn’t allowed to do. It all amounted to laying low while they hyped Karlie the international super model; things like “don’t pay with plastic,” “don’t be on the news,” “don’t fly or purchase plane tickets,” “don’t get arrested,” “avoid giving out personal information of any kind to anyone as Karlie or Carly,” etc. Annoyingly, this two month “hype-period” wasn’t included in her contract which actually started with her first real-time tweet to Taylor in response to some Vogue quote about her. After that, access to Karlie Kloss’s accounts would unceremoniously be transferred to her, and she would begin getting paid, living in her new home, and being heavily regulated by Taylor’s agents.  
Karlie was trying to remind herself that she’d be sitting really pretty and partying for free after just two short months. Even dealing with Taylor Swift the clinical psychopath was worth the financial security and booze. Who knows, maybe she’d even meet other celebrities who weren’t rage dragons devoid of empathy? She’d always said she’d love to fuck either Jennifer Lawrence, Kesha, or both at the same time, maybe even throw Bradley Cooper in there to spice things up-  
She was interrupted in her lecherous thinking by a text.  
“This is Taylor. Manager wants us to sort out our differences. Sent a car to get you, it’s outside.”  
Karlie’s heart shuddered. The command was very real-Taylor in it’s cold succinctness, and as much as she played a tall, confident actress around Swift, Karlie was pretty intimidated by the international pop star. All the weird feelings in her abdomen aside, however, the adrenalin was invigorating. She got into the black town car with a nervous grin on her face.

Karlie walked in on a heated shouting match between Taylor’s manager and someone behind a locked door, presumably Taylor.  
“Swift!” he shouted, and Karlie’s breath caught because this guy was terrifying, “Get out of there or I swear to god we will sell your fucking contract! You are not worth all this fucking trouble!”  
Taylor’s voice rang out, slightly muffled but equally loud, and it was warbley like she was crying.  
“I’ve got a scissors!” she wailed, “I’m going to cut it all off!”  
Taylor’s manager punched the door and roared before turning slightly and noticing Karlie standing in the doorway. She looked sick; there was almost no color left in her face.  
“Thank god,” the manager grunted and then turned back to the door, “Swift, Karlie is here.”  
There was a long silence.  
“Tell her to suck a dick; I’m not coming out,” Taylor eventually said, still warbley but less manic. Karlie made a face because that was pretty unwarranted. The manager fumed.  
“Taylor Swift, you are the intellectual property of your contract-holding corporation. If you cut your hair and damage your brand, we will persecute you in a court of law. You’re a liquid asset, not an investment, and we have no problem selling you to someone who won’t treat you nearly as well as we do.”  
Karlie made a different, more offended face because holy shit that was so harsh. She wondered if Taylor’s stock-holders always treated her like this, not that the way Taylor acted was excusable if that was the case, but it was definitely more understandable. The door rattled from Taylor hitting it with impressive force on her side.  
“I make you 170 million a year. Handing me off is bad business, and you fucking know that. I want to talk to Karlie.”  
The manager threw up his hands and motioned for Karlie to give it a shot. Karlie hesitantly approached the door.  
“Hey Taylor,” she said with a slight upward inflection. She and the manager held their breath while they waited for a response. After a while, the door opened a crack.  
“You can come in, Karlie,” Taylor said, her voice dark. Karlie looked at the manager who rolled his eyes and harrumphed. She stepped inside after a second and beheld Taylor Swift, who was a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and teary; she had a fistful of hair in her hand, mascara smeared all over her face, and her posture was rigid and coiled like a threatened cat.  
“What’s going on?” Karlie asked, and it was accidentally sort of gentle.  
“Don’t use that voice on me. Why the fuck did you sign that contract, you moron?” Taylor growl-moaned, and started sobbing. Karlie frowned and crossed her arms; she was very uncomfortable.  
“You’ve got a good life, Taylor. What are you so upset about?”  
“I don’t have a life. I’m a marketing technique. Business people sit in board rooms and decide what I do, what I wear while I do it, and what I say in an interview the next day about doing it. I was sixteen when I signed my fucking contract, and they own me until I’m sixty.”  
The two were quiet for a couple seconds.  
“It can’t be all bad, right? You’ve got a lot of money,” Karlie offered. Taylor wasn’t really listening to her.  
“I can’t stand seeing you do all the same shit I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Working with this idea because my goal is to write a full-fiction based on the same concept. I'd be interested to hear thoughts.


End file.
